


Green Light

by r0salynee



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, Original Character(s), Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:24:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0salynee/pseuds/r0salynee
Summary: AU-- After meeting an older, divorced man at a local bar and starting a short romance, Miles decides to ditch town and run away with him.Told in different times of the trip.  Continuation piece to come shortly.





	

**Friday, 11:49 pm**

After checking his duffel for what was probably the tenth time, he finally resigned to sitting on the edge of his bed, looking through the few social media apps still left on his phone. The bright white display of the screen was the only light in the room; he kept it dark and the door closed so his housemates would think he had already gone to sleep. In the morning, they'll find the stack of cash on the entry way table, to cover his portion of rent for the next month, including extra for utilities. By the time they wake up, Miles imagined he'd be at least out of state lines, maybe two states over. 

The thought made him feel suddenly nervous; the whole situation was definitely not something he planned for. No one would have ever imagined he would do something so spontaneous, so risky, so extremely ill advised. He could hear it now, ringing in his head-- “oh, not Miles. Miles is so cautious, he's a practical guy, he would never do that.” Granted, he couldn't think of anyone else he knew that would ditch town, leave a decent job with no notice, disappear with little warning with someone they met only two months ago. Miles scowled at his phone, upset at himself for making this sound a lot worse than intended in his head.

Two months ago, he met John, a 40-something year old divorcee, in the local bar. They made casual conversation, shared military stories, bought each other rounds of drinks, eventually leading to John's truck in the alley parking behind the bar where they exchanged drunk, sloppy kisses until Miles' concerned friends called him, three times. They were equally concerned when he was dropped off at home by John, and looked absolutely disheveled. Still, Miles met with John continuously after that-- either at the same bar, different bars across town where no one could have recognized them, city parks after hours. 

It was last week that John approached him about leaving town; Miles thought he was fucking with him.  
“I'm being serious, you know,” he had said, taking a swig of already warm beer.  
Miles was silent for a while, fiddling with his empty beer bottle.  
“And we'd go where, exactly?”  
John shrugged, “Got a few options, nothing concrete. Thought we'd figure it out along the way.”  
He had scoffed at that, “You're fucking crazy, John.”  
Regardless of the comment, he asked Miles to think it over, paid for their last round, leaving the bar before sneaking a brief squeeze of his hand. Three days after, Miles called John at around 1 in the morning, desperate to hide the frantic tone in his voice, agreeing to go with him. 

Now, after deciding to leave as soon as possible, Miles waited anxiously on the edge of his bed, switching his attention between the brightly lit screen of his phone and watching outside of the window. Another ten minutes had passed, with one more minute to midnight, and a pair of headlights pulled into the driveway that were quickly dimmed as the vehicle sat in park. Nearly jumping up from the bed, Miles shoved his phone into his jacket and yanked his duffel over his shoulder. As quietly as he could manage with the creaking floorboards and doors, he rushed down to the first level of the house, stopping suddenly at the entry way. His eyes were drawn to the bundle of cash he left on the table; he placed his bag onto the floor, digging through to find his set of keys that he instinctively put inside. Clasping his hand around the four other keys, Miles wound the front door key off the ring, setting it next to the money. 

With a staggered sigh, he slowly opened the door, careful to press the lock on the knob before closing it behind him, before walking down to the driveway. John had reached over and opened the passenger side door for him before he had opened it himself, drinking from a thermos of coffee as Miles tossed his bag into the back of the cab. The car door slammed shut, he handed Miles the thermos as he pulled out of the driveway; he took one last look at the house, ignoring the remorseful feeling in his gut.

**Saturday, 12:33 am**

“I still can't believe you talked me into this.”  
“Oh yeah?” Miles caught a glimpse of the smirk on John's face, “what makes you say that?”  
“Sticking to what I said, because you're fucking crazy, John.”  
They both laughed; Miles placed the coffee thermos in the one clean cup holder between their seats, quickly emptied after passing it back and forth during the first hour of the drive. Out of the familiar parts of their city, the younger man felt a bit more at ease. He had stayed quiet, gazing at the restaurants and shops cluttered on the main street as they sped by them, including the bar where they had initially met. Maybe he was still processing leaving all of it behind, maybe he was trying to talk himself out of it all; either way, John didn't force him to talk.

“I need to ask you something,” John said suddenly, his tone serious; as serious as it was that night.  
Miles brushed it off, a playful grin on his face, “Yeah? What's that?”  
The older man pulled off towards a highway ramp, eyes focused on the road, “Did you think I was going to leave without you?”  
“Ah,” Miles' felt his expression fall to a frown, “what makes you say that, then?”  
John shrugged, “When you called me, about leaving, you sounded upset.”  
No response.  
“So, I just wanted you to know, I wouldn't have done that,” John concluded.

Miles shifted in his seat, shrugging his coat off his shoulders, “Well, I had, honestly.”  
John said nothing.  
“I wouldn't have blamed you,” he continued, bunching up the jacket until it made a suitable pillow against the window, “I'm pretty used to people walking away, you know? But I guess...”  
“Guess what?”  
The younger sighed, “I guess I didn't want you to be another person to walk away. So...”  
The cab became silent; John shot a quick glance to the passenger side, noticing that Miles had drifted to sleep, propped up by the car door armrest and the makeshift pillow.

**Saturday, 4:16 am**

“Whoa, whoa hold up,” Miles knocked John's hand away from the radio, stopping him from changing the station for the fifth time since they pulled off to a rest area to eat, parking the car in the furthest part of the near empty gas station lot.  
John shot him a look, “Really?”  
“What?”  
The older man shook his head, chuckling, “Wouldn't have pinned you for a Duran Duran fan.”  
“Oh?” Miles took a bite of his breakfast sandwich, feigning offense, “I'm not _that_ young, you know.”  
“You were born what year again, exactly? '85? '86?”  
“1988, thank you,” Miles retorted with a smirk.  
John barked out a laugh, taking a drink from the refilled coffee thermos, “Well that's not much better.”  
“Really?” The younger man disposed of the uneaten portion of his meal in the plastic shopping bag on the floor of the truck, flashing John a sly look.

“Didn't mean to make you seem like more of a dirty old man than you already are,” he joked, leaning in close over the center console.  
Another gruff chuckle, John lowered the thermos back into the cup holder, “I'd be a dirty old man either way, and you'd still be a horrible enabler.”  
“Oh no, as I recall, you kissed me first,” Miles commented, feeling a warm hand clasp the back of his neck to pull him closer, “Since when was that enabling?”  
“You didn't stop me. In fact, you crawled over the seat just like you're about to right now, and straight into my lap.”  
The younger feigned offense again, positioning himself so he straddled John, cramped inside the limited space of the truck cab, “Still not enabling.”  
“Try not to hit the horn with your ass again,”John remarked, smirking as he crashed their lips together.

**Saturday, 11:25 am**

Digging through expired vehicle registrations, a worn manual, and at least three Swiss army knives, Miles shut the glove compartment closed, “Yeah, no, no map.”  
John swore under his breath, “Could have sworn at least one was in there.”  
“You don't have a GPS or something?”  
He reopened the glove compartment, checking through it's contents again.  
“Hell no,” the older man scoffed, “I never figured out how that thing worked. That was more my kids' thing.”

Miles bit back a chuckle, shutting the compartment a second time.  
“What about your phone?” John asked, a vague sense of annoyance in his voice, “Doesn't it have something like that on there?”  
He hadn't even thought about his phone the whole time they'd been on the road. Retrieving the device from his pocket, he tried pushing the side buttons to activate it. Nothing. He tried tapping the screen, which remained black.  
“Fuck.”  
“Don't tell me.”  
“Battery's dead,” Miles confirmed, dropping the phone onto the dashboard. 

John growled, definitely annoyed now, “I think I saw a rest stop sign a while ago, we'll just keep going until we run into it. Get a map, charge the phone, get something to eat.”  
They were long overdue for a stop, both now feeling very irritable after the drive. They didn't reach that rest area for another twenty minutes, the whole time keeping quiet, sans the faint music playing on the radio. Miles gathered his phone and fished the charging cable out of his bag, hopeful that there would be an outlet in the truck stop restaurant. The pair separated at the truck, John making his way towards the convenience store and Miles into the diner. He ignored the stares from the regulars and workers, claiming a table in the far corner. The waitress came over after a while with fresh coffee and took his order-- two burger meals for himself and John. He got through half a pot alone before the older man finally returned. 

The patrons made quick glances, careful not to look at him for too long. John appeared more threatening and carried more of a “don't fuck with me” aura than Miles any day of the week; the eye patch and beard must have that effect on people. Before seating himself at the booth, he placed a small plastic bag on the table, containing a cheap roadside GPS and a charging cable that could plug into the cigar socket in the truck.  
“No maps?”  
John poured himself a cup of coffee.  
“No, there were maps.”  
“So...?”  
He sipped at the coffee, “I can't remember how to read a map for shit.”

The younger man choked on his drink, stifling his laughter behind a closed fist to his mouth; John managed to crack a smile, hidden by the rim of the diner mug.

****

**Saturday, 7:40 pm**

“Only rooms I got right now are with two single beds, that work alright with you two?”  
John grunted as he signed his name in the guest book, “S'fine, thank you.”  
The front desk worker of the motel retreated to the far wall, grabbing a set of keys. Miles kept close to the main door, carrying both their bags in each hand. The worker placed the key on the desk and slid it towards John, “Room 3A, just up the stairs. Poolside too.”  
The older man nodded, muttering his thanks again.  
“So where you boys headed?”  
“Nevada,” John answered, a believable lie.

“Ah, father-son trip to Vegas, huh?”  
Miles choked again, trying to cover the reaction with a cough.  
“Well no,” John remarked, handing the worker his credit card, “I'm not his father.”  
“My bad,” the other replied, typing the card numbers into the computer before handing it back to John, “Checkout time at 8 am work for you?”

The two exited the office, with Miles trying not to burst out laughing up the staircase to their room. He finally broke out in hysterics, collapsing on his back onto one of the beds.  
“That really tickled you, I see,” John remarked, cracking a grin.  
“I just,” Miles managed to say between giggles, “Never actually thought someone would mistake me as your kid.”  
“It's 'cause you got that baby face.”  
The younger man scoffed, “It isn't a baby face, it's good genes.”  
John chuckled, sauntering over towards the bed to yank his bag off the floor; he leaned over Miles, sure to get as close as he could.  
“It's a baby face,” he commented, pecking the other on the forehead, “Get some rest, I'll get us dinner.”

**Sunday, 6:09 am**

“If this is--” John strained to speak, throwing his head back against the pillow, “This is how you plan to wake me up every morning, I could get used to this.”  
His grasp on the short hair on Miles' head tightened at the pleased hum, sending vibrations around his cock, now shoved deep down the younger man's throat. Miles slowly pulled up, the flat of his tongue following the thick vein on the underside of John's dick, releasing his mouth and swirling the head with the tip of his tongue. The heaving moans, the rise and fall of John's chest as he struggled for breath, swearing at the lost of heat with the little words he could process-- Miles could get off to just this alone. He repeated his previous motion, moving his tongue in painfully laggard circles.

With an aggressive grunt, John tugged on Miles' hair harder than before, holding him in place as he thrust up back into the warmth of his mouth. It surprised him, but Miles eagerly allowed him to continue, each forced push down his throat made him harder.  
“Fuck,” John swore again, following a deep groan, shoving his cock inside Miles' throat one last time before dragging him up to meet his lips for a needy kiss.  
“Let me fuck you,” the older man demanded between kisses and bites to Miles' neck and bottom lip.  
“I prepped myself before I woke you up.”

The noise that escaped John could only be described as a growl, flipping the younger man with ease so he laid on his back, his legs pushed up towards his shoulders to give him full access to his ass.  
“Bad influence,” John muttered, reaching for the small tube of lubricant purposefully left on the bedside table.  
“Pervert,” Miles shot back, a soft moan passed from his parted lips, feeling the head of John's cock pressed against him.  
The older man scoffed with a grin on his face, sliding himself at an intentionally slow pace inside the other. Miles gasped, his head tossed to the side, trying to hide his burning red cheeks into the coolness of the motel bed pillow. Only halfway buried inside of him, John pulled out with the same pace as before, careful not to remove himself fully. Miles opened his mouth to speak, “Just fuck--”

A knock at the room's door. They both froze, simultaneously turning their attention elsewhere.  
“Are you fucking kidding me?”  
Miles' tone was exasperated, but hushed.  
Another knock, followed by the sound of a foot tapping on the concrete walkway outside.  
“Do all cleaning ladies come by this early?”  
John lowered his voice to a whisper.  
“Was that a sincere question, I can't tell,” Miles whispered back.  
“I'll tell her to go,” the older man replied, motioning to move.  
“John I swear to god.”

Rolling his one good eye, John sighed, “Fine, I have a better idea.”  
He snapped his hips with a rough thrust, sheathing himself fully. A significantly louder moan jolted as a response before Miles clapped a hand over his mouth. They waited in silence for a moment; a faint gasp heard outside the door, then the rushed footsteps over to the next room. Miles shot John a look.  
“You're terrible.”  
“You love it,” John retorted, snapping his hips a second time, making the bed creak under the movement.

**Sunday, 7:44 am**

“So, where did we decide to go, anyway?”  
John was quiet for a moment, rubbing a towel through his hair to soak out the excess water from his shower.  
“Dunno, had anywhere in mind?”  
Miles shrugged, glancing through his phone while laying on the bed, still only half dressed.  
“Vegas wouldn't be a bad stop,” he joked.  
John laughed, “Not much of a gambler.”  
“Neither am I,” the other replied, flashing a playful glance in John's direction.  
“Wouldn't have guessed that.”

“Oh?”  
Miles cocked an eyebrow, placing the phone on the bed next to him, “What makes you think that?”  
Pulling a plain shirt over his head, John shrugged.  
“Took a gamble on me, didn't you?”  
The younger man said nothing for a moment.  
“That's what you think?”  
“C'mon, Miles,” John approached the bed, climbing over Miles so he pinned him down, “Old guy with someone with a helluva lot more chances than him? Sounds risky to me.”

He made eye contact with him before answering. It was usually a sign to John that he was being completely serious.  
“A risk I wanted to take.”  
“Still a risk.”  
“Trying to talk me out of it?”  
“Hell no,” John replied back quickly, “Just wanting to be sure you're still on board with, well, this.”  
Scoffing, Miles lazily wrapped his arms around John's neck, still maintaining the eye contact from earlier.  
“I'm definitely on board with this.”

If he didn't know any better, he'd think John was blushing. Miles pressed a quick kiss on his lips, John turned it into a deeper one.  
“So Vegas then, huh? Where else after that?”  
“We'll figure it out.”  
John grinned, “Like the sound of that.”

~

**Author's Note:**

> I'm dying squirtle.
> 
> Requests at my tumblr succulentrobotass.tumblr.com or my twitter @rosamarilynee


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